Santana flops back onto the couch, being careful not to spill the glass of red wine she held in her left hand, her head reeling back into the leather, a smug smile occupying her lips. All she could think of was the previous weekend; how she hung out at some bar, clad in a red dress with a short skirt and black go go boots, and that cutie she met there — the cutie that took her home.

Santana would classify herself as experienced; knowledgeable, but god, that girl showed her so many things she didn’t know. The most proud she’s been of herself in her life is when she obtained a new number in her phone at the end of the evening. Score.

She exhales a soft breath, reaching for her smartphone rested on the coffee table and typing in a message with her right thumb to a contact listed as Pretty Bar Chick. She hesitates a moment before pressing send, before allowing the pad of her thumb to press against the button.

Why don’t you come over? Got some red wine to share, hope you don’t mind roomies :) But don’t worry they’re cool lol